


Beer Bottle

by lightbringer



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Author Doesn't Know How to Use Tags, M/M, PWP, bossy!charlie, but i think mac will have run thru stuff like that with charlie anyway, dw, if u squint, inappropriate use of a beer bottle, mac stops his stupid ass, shut up, the very end could be seen as dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbringer/pseuds/lightbringer
Summary: charlie is once again feelin' like a horndog (love makes u crazy)mac takes his sweet time getting to the apartment.shameless and unnecessary porn. ya welcome charmacs





	Beer Bottle

Charlie could feel sweat flattening the hair against his temples, and his wrist was cramping, but damn it he couldn’t stop; he’d been chasing something for a while now. How long had he been squirming in this bed? An hour? Two? He’d lost track of the time a few hundred strokes ago. But he was missing something… Something real important. He couldn’t fucking think what, but _something_ was stopping him from the sweet endgame he was crawling towards. He looked around desperately, his fingers slipping out of him, joints screaming as he stretched his hand, shaking it a little. His eyes stopped on the closest object – an empty beer bottle, sitting innocently on his nightstand, dick-shaped and hard and much longer than his fingers.

 

He bit his lip, not knowing if it was a good idea. Usually he had the gang around to pick apart his questionable decisions… But not right now. And he was _desperate._ The deliberation took under ten seconds, and as soon as his hand closed around the bottle his other one was in his drawer, fishing around for one of the condoms Mac had thrown in there the last time he was here. “Wrap it or snap it, Charlie.” He’d said, seriously, and Charlie wasn’t sure that anybody else had said that in the history of the world, or quite what it meant, but he figured they were built for this exact purpose. Sticking random objects in your ass.

 

The snap as the condom sealed to the bottle made Charlie flinch, and then shiver. He’d only ever had his fingers and Mac inside him. Could you get specially made fake dicks for this sort of thing? He thought he’d seen one, once, but he wasn’t sure. He coated the bottle in more lube, fingers sliding against the neck, and looked at the ceiling as he found himself again. The mouth of the bottle was inside him real easy, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord as the wider part of the bottle met his ass. He bucked, once, dick leaking onto his belly after the brief break he’d given it. He started moving it in and out, making little noises as he got used to how unforgiving it was compared to his soft, worn fingers. God, this was better. Longer. More like Mac. God… Mac… Mac…. He’d texted him hours ago, on the little flip phone he’d been given for emergencies. But he hadn’t come. And now Charlie had to make do with a beer bottle – not that it was the worst, he thought as he pressed the flared body against his hole again, thinking of how wide it would stretch him open, and moaned, low with nobody to hear him. Then a key rattled in the lock.

 

“Jesus Christ, Charlie, what the hell are you _doing_?”

 

He hadn’t even bothered to flip the duvet over himself. The sight of him, feet flat on the bed, legs spread apart and still wearing his t-shirt could’ve greeted anybody in that moment and he was so fucking horny he didn’t give a shit. Luckily – god, about time – it was Mac.

 

It took a moment for him to find his tongue, heavy in his mouth. “Took- took you long enough, Mac.” He ground out, even as Mac ran over and pulled the bottle out of him without another word. “H- _hey!”_ He yelped, indignant as all hell even as he tensed and relaxed around nothing. “Are you crazy, Charlie? Glass? _Glass_ in your _ass_?” Charlie made a sheepish face, pawing at his dick. “Well,” he grumbled, “you took _ages_ , and-” Mac cut him off. “Charlie, all you messaged me was ‘room! Now! Dick ddick’.” He crossed his arms, and Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of the way they bulged out of his uncharacteristically-intact t-shirt sleeves. “Yeah, and… You should’ve… Known...” His eyes were falling closed again as he stroked himself, hoping Mac would take the hint.When he just stood there, watching, after already taking his goddamn time getting there, something in Charlie took offense.

 

He cursed and jumped off the bed, grabbing two fistfuls of Mac’s shirt and standing on the very tips of his toes to kiss him, hard. He kissed him until he could barely breathe, and then spun him around and shoved him backwards onto the bed. Mac saw the fire glowing in his eyes and tilted his head. “Charlie-” Charlie made an angry sound and shook his head.

“First, you can’t even work out what I thought was a pretty obvious text,” he snaps, climbing onto Mac even as the bigger man sits up, and starting to rip at his belt buckle, his fly, “then you leave me by myself, like this, for _hours_ ,” he successfully frees Mac’s cock which, despite his feigning disinterest, is already hard and hot in Charlie’s hand. Mac groans, real quiet, and his big doe eyes are wide and fixed on Charlie’s. Enamoured by this rare attitude. Charlie rips open another condom and puts it on Mac, barely breaking eye contact, then squirts extra lube all over his cock, pumping it a couple times to make sure he’s still with him. By the way Mac’s jaw tightens and he bucks up into his hand, he sure is.

 

He hasn’t spoken, mouth open, letting Charlie rant. Just watching. “And then, _then_ , once you get here, you just _stand_ there, like a- like a- ah-” the word is lost as he lowers himself onto Mac’s cock, seated with ease due do his thorough, much-too-long prep time.

 

“Full,” he whimpers, blunt nails digging into Mac’s shoulders through his shirt. He can feel the metal of Mac’s zipper against his ass but he grinds down anyway, ‘cause he can’t get _enough_. This is what was missing, before. Mac. Someone he wanted more than oxygen itself, who wanted him, warm and beating and alive and _inside_ him. He rushes to strip Mac of his shirt, and as soon as it’s out of his way Mac fists his fingers in Charlie’s hair and returns the earlier kiss twofold, slowing as Charlie rises up on his knees and falls again, gentle, finding rhythm. It’s slow, sure, but it’s _filthy_ , and Charlie can feel that his chest is flushing before he sees the pink on his skin.

 

He pulls away and pushes Mac back down onto the bed, flat, planting both hands on his chest as he speeds up. His head is thrown back as he rides, denim rough against his skin and the sounds loud in the quiet room. Mac’s hands are on his hips and he’s gazing up as Charlie’s hands skate up his chest, finding his face and scratching through his beard. Mac catches one of his thumbs and kisses it, the tenderness a contrast to Charlie throwing himself onto Mac so hard the bed taps the wall. “That’s cute, Mac,” gasps Charlie, his cheeks rosy and thighs burning with the effort, “but if you don’t do somethin’ in a minute… I’m gonna bu-burn all of your muscle tees.” He would never do that, of course, not when Mac’s arms look like that, but Mac’s hands tighten anyway and he starts fucking up into Charlie as Charlie fucks down. It’s _glorious_. Perfect. Amazing. “Yes, yes, Mac,” he yelps, his already pitiful volume-control going immediately out of the window. “Fuck! Me!”

 

The words are being punched out of him now, the impact of their bodies forcing them out with every breath, and he couldn’t hold them back even if he wanted to as his brain turns to mush. “Fuck- fuck- yeah- Mac- fuck- me- harder- fuck- Mac- harder- please- please- yes- oh- oh- oh- god- fuck- ah- yeah- so- deep- so- fucking- deep- _Mac!_ ” His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are high, tilted, jaw slack. He’s not fucking down anymore – he can’t, limbs pretty much useless at this point, so Mac guides them over his head to the headboard and Charlie hangs on, needing an anchor. He looks fucking blissful. Sweaty, messy, but blissed out as all hell. Mac wants to keep that look on his face forever.

 

He grits his teeth and tries to go even harder, wrapping one hand around Charlie’s cock and trying to jerk him off in time with his thrusts. Charlie- well- he almost _shrieks_ , twisting on Mac’s dick and Jesus Christ if that doesn’t set off a whole ‘nother set of sensations. “Come on, Char,” he breathes, voice ragged as he concentrates on the head of Charlie’s dick, squeezing and rubbing with his thumb until Charlie is writhing, stomach tensing. His cock is bright red and Mac can feel it throbbing as Charlie tosses his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s overwhelmed, like he always is, and Mac reaches his other hand up to Charlie’s face. “Come on, baby. Let go.” He can feel the muscles in his thighs shaking. “Let go, Charlie,” he growls, and Charlie cries out, the sound loud and breaking in the middle, falling forwards and curling helplessly into Mac’s chest as the orgasm shudders through him. He’s still twitching as Mac comes, grunting his pleasure into Charlie’s curly hair and holding the smaller man’s hips still.

 

He rolls them over gently and idly realises he still has a loose hand around Charlie’s dick. He gives it an experimental stroke and Charlie lets out a sound that’s half-moan, half sob, so Mac closes his mouth around Charlie’s and does it again, and again, until there are tears leaking out of Charlie’s eyes and the sounds Mac is swallowing have an edge of pain. That’s when he slides out, tying off the condom and dropping it in the trash can so he can curl up against Charlie’s pliant form. He looks like his strings have been cut. “You okay, man?” He murmurs against the top of Charlie’s ear, and Charlie shivers and turns to burrow into Mac’s chest again. “Hey, now.” He cards a hand through Charlie’s hair, bending to kiss his temple. “Let me hear it, Char.”

 

Charlie takes what seems like the world’s biggest breath and let’s it out in a great _whoosh_ before answering. “I’m fine, Mac.” Mac’s fingers find the nape of Charlie’s neck and press in, massaging slightly. Charlie pushes back into it, and Mac thinks – not for the first time – that Charlie would purr if he was able. “Just fine?” He keeps his tone light, but his concern is weighing him down. He feels soft, soft lips against his neck. “M’good,” Charlie mumbles, yawn muffled against Mac’s throat. “Promise. Was good. Love you.” Mac glows and pulls Charlie tighter against him until his breathing goes slow and even. Mac has a lump in his throat full of guilt. Adoration. Self-loathing. “Love you too, Charlie,” he whispers, and slides out of bed, hunting for a washcloth.

 


End file.
